Dancing on a Rainbow

by Barbara Cartland

  She thought that she sounded crushing, but the Marquis merely laughed.

  “My dear,” he said, “I find everything about you so alluring, so different from anybody I have ever known before, that I am captivated by you in a way that is difficult to put into words.”

  Loretta drew herself up, hoping she looked, as she told Ingrid, like her Aunt Edith.

  “I think, monsieur , we should talk about Paris!”

  “But I have every intention,” the Marquis contradicted, “of talking about you.”

  “It would be more interesting for me if you would talk about yourself.”

  “Why not?” he enquired. “What do you want to know?”

  Loretta hesitated for a moment.

  Then she asked,

  “I can hardly believe that when you invited me to dine with you tonight that you had not already an engagement with somebody else.”

  She paused and then hoping to surprise him said,

  “Somebody who has been left unhappy because you have altered your engagements.”

  “I think the right word for it is that I changed direction,” the Marquis said. “Of course I was not going to sit at home all the evening by myself reading the newspapers! But nothing was more important, Lora, than being with you!”

  “That sounds plausible,” Loretta said, “at the same time it bears out your reputation.”

  “My reputation for what?”

  “For being cruel and unkind to those you have no further use for”

  The Marquis’s lips twisted in a mocking manner that she found fascinating before he replied,

  “Again you are probing into the past and I have told you to think of the present and the future.”

  “Tomorrow I shall be the past,” Loretta replied, “and I have no intention of crying over it.”

  “We are fencing with words,” the Marquis answered. “You will always be my present and my future. Our past is not yesterday or the day before, but perhaps a thousand years earlier when, as you said at luncheon, we met in Athens or on Mount Olympus.”

  “I did not say I met you!”

  “But that is what you were thinking and I was thinking exactly the same. It is something we cannot argue about because it definitely happened and ever since then I have been searching for you.”

  Because of the quiet way he spoke and because again there was a note of sincerity in his voice that made it impossible for her to know how to refute him, Loretta said quickly,

  “You are breaking your promise.”

  “What promise?”

  “That you would show me Paris.”

  “That is what I intend to do, but there is no hurry. We have this evening and the rest of our lives in front of us, so it is easier to talk about ourselves.”

  “It is not easy for me,” Loretta objected, “and anyway, I don’t understand what you are saying.”

  “That is not true,” the Marquis contradicted. “You understand me perfectly, just as I understand you. There is no need for words. We have only to sit here and feel we are joined by an invisible force that neither of us can resist.”

  Loretta drew in her breath.

  She felt, although he had not moved, that he was holding her, drawing her closer and that she was becoming merged into him in a way that made her lose her own identity and become part of his.

  For a moment they did not speak, she only raised her eyes and there was an appeal in them he understood.

  “I will not frighten you,” he said caressingly, “for that is something I have no wish to do. If it makes you happy, I will tell you what you think you want to hear, but it is really quite unimportant beside the fact that we are together.”

  Then, with an irresistible charm he began to talk of Paris, not only of the new Paris of Baron Haussmann, but the people he knew and who he would like Loretta to meet.

  He told her of the old Princesse de Metternich, who, after leading a life of pleasure had turned to art and had become a passionate Wagnerite.

  She was a niece of Napoleon I and she kept open house for dandies, painters and writers.

  “It was just the sort of salon,” he said, “which your friend Ingrid is creating and which I think in the future will be one of the most important meeting places in Paris.”

  “Do you really think that?” Loretta asked. “I do want Ingrid to be happy.”

  There was no need to explain and the Marquis said,

  “She may not be accepted by the families of the ancien régime who live only in the past, but she will keep Hugh Galston happy by making him part of what is now more important than the Social world, the new aristocracy of intellect and power which no man can resist.”

  “I am glad you should say that,” Loretta cried. “It is what I want for both of them.”

  “It is what they will have,” the Marquis said, “and it is what they deserve, having had the courage to admit that the love they have for each other is more valuable than anything else in the world.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I believe it. It is what I want and it is what you want and therefore, as we have found it, we will have to show the same bravery as Ingrid and Hugh have shown.”

  He spoke very solemnly and Loretta felt, although she tried to prevent it, her whole being responding to what he was saying.

  It was a relief when the waiter interrupted with the first course.

  They ate a delicious meal and when they left the restaurant it was to find that the Marquis’s carriage had been opened.

  “Now I can see the lights of Paris,” Loretta exclaimed in delight.

  They drove beside the Seine and, as she looked at the lighted barges and occasionally the bateaux-mouches gaily decorated with pennants and streamers, obviously coming back from some citizen’s outing, she thought that nothing could be more lovely or attractive.

  The chestnut trees that bordered the road were in bloom, the air seeming scented with their fragrance and, as they drove along, she was continually hearing the sounds of music in the distance.

  It was all so fascinating, and yet all the time she was aware that the Marquis was not looking at the lights, as she was, but at her.

  He did not attempt to touch her.

  In fact, he sat as far away from her as it was possible to do and yet she felt that they were so near and so close to each other that it was an intimacy she had never known before.

  The coachman obviously had his instructions and they drove until she realised they were now in the Bois de Boulogne with the trees overhead and the stars shining through them making it even more romantic than the lights of the City.

  They drove for some way, when the carriage came to a standstill and the Marquis suggested,

  “I want you to alight, as I have something to show you.”

  Loretta felt nervous.

  “Perhaps that – would be a – mistake,” she said in a low voice.

  “There is nothing to make you afraid,” he said quietly, “and it is only a very short distance to walk.”

  It was impossible to insist on remaining in the carriage and, as Loretta stepped out, she found that just in front of them was a path leading under the trees towards some lights in the distance.

  She walked a little more quickly than was necessary because she felt that she was stepping into the unknown.

  Then, as the light grew brighter, she found that the Marquis had taken her to a cascading fountain, where the concealed lights in its stone basin turned the water flashing up into the darkness of the sky into a thousand iridescent rainbows.

  It was so lovely that Loretta stood staring at it in delight, her eyes shining, her lips parting a little.

  Then, after some moments of silence, the Marquis said,

  “Look at me, Lora, I want you to look at me.”

  Loretta turned her face slowly, feeling that she had been swept away into the sky by the beauty of the fountain and now he was bringing her back to earth.

  Then, as she looked up at him,
she felt, although he had not moved, that he held her prisoner and her eyes could not leave his.

  “I brought you here tonight,” he said very quietly, “because I intended to kiss you, as I have wanted to do ever since I first saw you.”

  Loretta gave a little murmur of dissent as he went on,

  “But now I am not going to touch you, because I want you to think of me, as I believe you do already, as somebody very different from the men who have pursued you and naturally made love to you in the past.”

  Loretta’s eyes widened, but she did not speak and the Marquis continued,

  “There is an aura about you, my darling, which protects you, and I can only pray that it is not only from me, but from anyone else who may come near you.”

  His voice grew deeper as he went on,

  “But because I want you to think only of me, because I want you to realise what has happened to us both, I am going to take you home and ask you to dream of me, as I shall be dreaming of you.”

  Loretta could not help thinking as he spoke that she had dreamed of him for a long time.

  Then the Marquis took her hand in his and she felt his lips gentle and insistent on the softness of her skin.

  He held them there for a moment and then as if he could not help himself, he turned her hand over and pressed his lips against the palm,

  It was something Loretta had never thought of a man doing and it not only surprised her, but at the same time she was conscious that it sent a quiver through her.

  Then she felt as if the beauty of the cascade ran through her body and there were rainbows within her breasts and touching her lips.

  The Marquis raised his head and announced with an air of authority,

  “Now I will take you home!”

  He put his hand under her arm and helped her back along the path under the trees to where the carriage was waiting.

  He assisted her into it and then went around to the other side so as not to cross in front of her to reach his own seat.

  The carriage drove off and soon there were the lights in the streets and the houses and they were back in the City.

  The carriage came to a standstill and the Marquis stepped out to help Loretta alight and took her up the steps to the front door.

  Before the night footman could open it he said quietly,

  “Bonne nuit , my beautiful one! I shall see you tomorrow, but remember, before you go to sleep, that I love you!”

  Then, as the door opened, he was gone and Loretta, with his words ringing in her ears, walked into the hall.

  Chapter Five

  When Loretta awoke in the morning, she could hardly believe that last night had not been a dream.

  It seemed too extraordinary that, despite Ingrid’s warning, she had found that the Marquis was different in every way from what she had expected and had been led to believe about him.

  How could he have spoken to her as he had? How could he have taken her to the fountain, then brought her away in a manner in which, even though she was innocent and unsophisticated, she knew no other man would have behaved.

  ‘I don’t understand,” she whispered to herself, ‘I don’t understand him and why he is as he is.’

  She longed to ask Ingrid’s advice, but she knew it would be impossible to make her cousin or anybody else understand the sensations the Marquis aroused in her and she was far too shy to repeat anything he had said to her.

  Her breakfast was brought to her in bed and afterwards, because she understood from Marie that it was expected, she dressed slowly and did not go downstairs until late in the morning.

  There was no sign of Ingrid and she went into the little sitting room where she had been taken the first night and sat down to read the newspapers, which were full of the excitements taking place in Paris.

  She had, however, only scanned the headlines when the door opened and a servant announced,

  “Le Comte de Marais, madame!”

  Loretta looked around in dismay.

  She had been hoping that the Marquis would call, perhaps to take her driving in the Bois de Boulogne.

  She had not expected the Comte and she thought how tiresomely persistent he was in view of his having called the previous evening.

  He came towards her with an expression in his eyes that she disliked and he raised her hand to his lips far from perfunctorily and actually kissed it.

  “Good morning, monsieur ,” Loretta said in what she hoped was a cold voice. “My hostess did not tell me that she was expecting you this morning.”

  “I called to see you yesterday evening, and you avoided me,” the Comte replied. “So today I am taking no chances and am asking you, Beautiful Lady, to come driving with me in the Bois de Boulogne and afterwards we will have luncheon at Pre Catalan.”

  “It is very kind of you, but unfortunately I have a previous engagement.”

  “I don’t believe it!” he said angrily. “And if it is with Fabian de Sauerdun, I refuse to allow you to go with him!”

  Loretta stiffened.

  “I do not think, monsieur , that you are in a position of authority over me!”

  “That is where you are mistaken,” the Comte answered. “I claim authority from finding you exquisite, adorable and very very desirable and I have no intention of surrendering you to that breaker of hearts, a man whose love affairs are a scandal and a crying disgrace!”

  He spoke with such scorn that Loretta wanted to defend the Marquis , but knew it would be indiscreet.

  Instead, she said,

  “I think, monsieur , this conversation is quite uncalled for. I can only thank you for your invitation, but regret I cannot accept it.”

  “I have already told you that I intend for you to have luncheon with me and also dinner tonight,” the Comte replied, “and I assure you, my beautiful, that I always get my own way where a lovely woman is concerned.”

  He took a step nearer to her as he added,

  “When I look at you, I know without your telling me that you have never been awakened to the fires of love, to the passion which will make you even more beautiful than you are already.”

  Loretta felt a repulsion and disgust arise in her simply because he had drawn nearer.

  She was also revolted not only by what he was saying, but the way he said it and she would have moved away had he not reached out to catch hold of her wrist.

  “You are driving me crazy!” he exclaimed. “I intend to teach you joys that at the moment you do not know exist.”

  He would have pulled her to him if Loretta had not given a little cry of protest and tried violently to free her arm from his grip.

  “How dare you – touch me!” she cried angrily.

  As the Comte gave a little laugh, she realised that her resistance excited him and there was an expression in his eyes that frightened her.

  “Let me – go!”

  Then, as he relentlessly pulled her nearer and nearer to him and she screamed, the door opened.

  It was with a sense of utter relief that Loretta saw Fabian de Sauerdun and the Earl come into the room.

  When they perceived what was occurring, they both stood still for a moment and, as the Comte released Loretta’s wrist, she said falteringly, because she was so shaken,

  “I was just – telling the Comte – that I was having luncheon – with you, Monsieur le Marquis.”

  “Of course,” the Marquis said without a moment’s hesitation. “That is what we arranged and my chaise is waiting outside so that we can drive in the Bois de Boulogne before we eat.”

  Loretta gave a little sigh of relief that the Earl had understood so quickly.

  He walked towards the Comte to say,

  “Good morning, Marais! I was not informed of your arrival!”

  “I came to see Lady Brompton,” the Comte replied, “for I had arranged last night to take her out to luncheon.”

  Because Loretta was scared she said beneath her breath,

  “That – is not – true!”


  “I am afraid you are too late, Marais,” the Marquis said. “My invitation was given first. It is something which seems to happen frequently where we are concerned.”

  He was being deliberately provocative and the Comte stared at him in fury.

  “One day I will get even with you, Sauerdun!” he snarled. “Make no mistake about that!”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “You are surely not suggesting another duel? The last one was such a farce that all Paris is still laughing!”

  The Comte was so incensed that for a moment Loretta was afraid he might even strike the Marquis .

  Then, with an exclamation that was a smothered oath, he walked from the room and Loretta, feeling quite weak after what had occurred, sat down on the sofa.

  “Marais grows more and more intolerable!” the Marquis said.

  “I agree with you,” the Earl replied, “he is a most unpleasant man and you certainly must not encourage him, Lora!”

  “Of course I did not – encourage him!” Loretta protested. “He is horrible, repulsive, and he – frightens me!”

  “I will make sure he leaves the house,” the Earl said and left the room.

  The Marquis sat down beside Loretta on the sofa.

  “He shall not frighten you again,” he said. “I will protect you from Marais and any other man like him!”

  He saw from the distress on her face and the expression in her eyes that she was greatly upset and he said quietly and gently without the usual mocking note in his voice,

  “Go upstairs and put on your prettiest bonnet. I want all my friends in the Bois de Boulogne to think how lucky I am to have you with me.”

  Because she knew that he was really trying to help her, Loretta gave him a tremulous little smile and rose obediently from the sofa.

  When she reached the door, it flashed through her mind that perhaps the Comte had not yet left and as if perceptively Fabian knew what she was thinking, he said,

  “I will take you to the bottom of the stairs.”

  As he spoke, he put his hand under her arm as he had last night when they left the fountain.

  She felt that he was protecting her and that it was ridiculous to feel afraid of a man like the Comte , who could not really hurt her.